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Meredith’s fingers squeeze down on my knuckles, and I wince. She’s mighty strong for a short stack, my wife. I don’t mind.
Chad sees Meredith, and his face turns bleach white everywhere that’s not fried by the sun.
“Meredith? Is that you?”
I let go of my wife’s hand and protectively cinch my arm around her shoulders.
After some awkward introductions, Meredith politely asks about Chad’s music site.
He laughs. “Oh, that? I sold that ages ago. I’m just kickin’ it. You know how it is.”
I bite my lip because if I open my mouth to talk, I’ll say something I’ll regret.
Meredith takes a deep breath. “No. No, I don’t know how it is. I’ve been pretty damn busy. But you know that.”
He laughs the sort of laugh of someone who smokes too much weed on the daily. This fairly easy-to-follow conversation has gotten too deep for him.
“So…what are you doing in Mexico? Aren’t you a reporter for that little paper in Darling Creek? They still got you shackled to your desk?”
This fucking guy.
“My wife works for the AP now. She won a Pulitzer last year for her story on deadbeat dads. You might be familiar with it.”
Chad stares at me, and Meredith squeezes my fingers again in warning.
Meredith takes a friendlier tone. “We’re getting away for a while. I’m visiting the bureau and thinking about moving the whole family down here. Her name is Beth, by the way. Would you like to see her photo?”
Meredith pulls out her phone, and Chad blanches.
“Oh, I don’t know if that’s a good idea…oh…okay….” Chad studies the photo of his biological daughter like he’s trying to decipher an ink blot.
“Yeah, she’s mine, alright,” he says with a raspy chuckle.
With every fiber in my being, I want to crack him on the head and remind him that Beth’s my daughter, not his. I made good on my word and adopted her as quickly as the courts would let me. But I don’t say any of that. Because if this guy still doesn’t want to step up and have a relationship with his daughter, then I don’t care what he thinks of me.
“She’s with the nanny tonight while we’re out having a date night. But we can meet for coffee tomorrow if you’d like to meet Beth.”
Chad grimaces and shifts his weight from one foot to the other.
From behind us, the hostess politely informs us in Spanish that they have a table for us.
“We have to go,” I grit out.
Chad sets his jaw and squares his shoulders. “I’ll let you know.”
Meredith nods. “I have the same number. I’ll keep an eye out for your text.”
We turn away and follow our server to our table.
Behind us, the hostess explains to Chad that he can’t get in tonight without a reservation.
“Do you think he’s actually going to meet her?” I ask Meredith as we walk to our table.
“I don’t know. If not, it’s his loss. Beth will be fine either way,” she says.
When we reach our table, I pause to kiss my wife’s forehead.
“She’s strong like her mother.”
She laughs. “Her mother’s only as strong as Daddy’s coffee.”
We take our seats, and the server hands us our menus. I already know what I want to eat, but I like to read the menu to brush up on reading in Spanish.
Meredith rests her hand on the table like an offering. I automatically take her offered hand in mine without looking up from the menu. I give her a squeeze, and she squeezes back; our secret code that the world can never break.
THE END
